Back in the USSR
by sleepy-firebug
Summary: While watching the weather report on TV, America notices that they've mentioned Moscow as belonging to the USSR. Not realizing that it's just a typo, America gets pissed and runs off to a confused Russia to demand to know why he's going back to communism.


As always, I do not own Hetalia. If I did, there would be much more sex. X3

De-anon from the Kink Meme. The prompt: **While watching the weather report, America notices that they've mentioned Moscow in the footnote text as belonging to the USSR (instead of Russia, which is just actually a typo). Not realizing that it's a mistake, America gets pissed and runs off to a confused Russia to demand to know why he's going back to communism. **

* * *

The halls rang with the sound of heavy boots slamming against tile, their owner barreling down the UN office corridor with great, purposeful strides. Passed nations stared after him with looks of puzzlement.

"Oi, Alfred," Arthur shot after him, barely looking up from a stack of paperwork, "What's got your knickers in a twist this time?"

"Not _now_, Iggy," America called back, waiving dismissively behind him with a gesture that was entirely wasted on England, who hadn't even bothered to look. "I'm in the middle of dealing with an incredibly urgent issue of international importance!"

China, who'd paused in his explanation of an updated trade agreement with the island nation to watch Alfred dart passed, turned back to England with a concerned expression. "An issue of international importance? Should we be worried, ahen?"

"No." Shuffling a few pages farther into the document, Arthur scowled. "Bloody wanker probably forgot where the loo is. Again."

"Americaaaaaaaaaa!" Italy wailed as he took off after the tall blonde who had just disappeared around the corner. "Let me help you find the restroom!" Arms flailing, shoes skidding over the slick floor, the scatterbrained nation somehow managed to ricochet off of the far wall, a potted plant, and then finally Germany (who grabbed Italy by the collar and set him back on his feet again without even breaking stride) before flailing after Alfred once more. "IT'LL BE OKAAAAAAAY!"

Moments passed, the sounds in the hall fading to the soft murmur of conversation and the more dignified tap of Germany's boots.

"...England," Germany muttered as he passed. "Do I even want to know?"

The soft melodies of classical music floated through the small office, interrupted only by the soft creak of leather as its lone occupant shifted in his seat and the occasional flutter of a page turning. The scent of tea warmed the air with its fragrance, accompanied by pungent undertones of charcoal and the slight mustiness of aged books. Though simple, the room felt homey, comfortable.

It was quiet, it was peaceful, it was-

_Crash_. "YOU."

-suddenly shaken as America kicked the door open, overwhelming the room with his self-important presence. Framed in the doorway, arms folded contemptuously over his chest, the young Nation scowled at the man seated calmly behind his desk. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

With a sigh, gloved fingers gently smoothed a satin bookmark between the pages of the well-worn book and snapped it shut. Russia's low chuckle sent a shiver down America's spine as fathomless violet eyes turned to him, sparkling with odd mirth. "I say, I would have expected Arthur to have taught you better, but no! Two hundred years later, and you still do not know how to open a door."

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it!" America roared, slamming his fist against the door frame in a strong and (hopefully) heroic manner.

"Mm." Once more picking up his book, Ivan shook his head. "Then I have no idea. Now go away. You are, how do you Americans put it? Interrupting my 'me' time."

Alfred's face flushed, the tips of his ears turning red. He _would not_ be ignored. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" Stomping over to Russia's desk, he snatched the book out of Ivan's hands. "This is -_ghhhhhk_!"

With a speed America couldn't begin to dodge, Russia leapt to his feet and had the younger nation by the throat, slamming him back into the top of his desk. Choking, fingers scrabbling at Russia's vise-like grip, Alfred stared up at his assailant with barely contained fear as Russia dragged him even farther along the paper-strewn surface, until his feet no longer reached the floor. Humming along to the strains of piano music still playing in the background, Ivan gently retrieved the book from where it had fallen against America's heaving chest. "Now now, young one. This is not yours." He giggled, the innocence of his child-like voice not matching the unbalanced gleam in his eyes. "Not yours. See?" Flipping open the cover with his thumb, Russia turned the flyleaf to America, indicating the childish scrawl of a name in his own language. "You do not," his fingers tightened in emphasis, "touch things that are not yours. Correct?"

America winced in pain, shaking his head as best he could.

"Good." Setting the book aside, Russia braced his free elbow against the desk, cupping his chin in his hand as he looked down at Alfred's purpling face. "I do not know why you do these things, little America. Do you not hear what they whisper about me?" The grin that spread itself across Ivan's round face had to have been one of the most terrifying things America had ever seen. "They say I am crazy, insane, not right in the head, mad as... the hatter. Nuttier than one of those little fruity bricks England makes at Christmas-time, da? You should be more careful." Laughing softly to himself, Russia released his prisoner just as quickly as he'd grabbed him, paying no mind as America slips off the desk to his knees and gasps ragged breaths of air. "Crazy, cra-zy, craaa-zy... how silly of them."

Settling back into his chair, Ivan began putting his desk back into order. "Now, what will make you go away, mm? You said there is something I need to be explaining to you, da?"

Coughing, rubbing gingerly over the reddening marks circling his neck, America pulled himself to his feet. A little of the fire had gone out of his words, yet he still stood with what he hopes is imposing strength. Just a little bit farther away from Russia this time. "I heard that you were going back to communism and that whole USSR thing! Why was I not informed of this? We had enough trouble last time breaking you of that habit, and you've got to see how much trouble Korea, China, and Cuba's bosses give us over all that social idealism shit. Capitalism, man... how can you possibly want to abandon that?"

The corner of Russia's eye twitches, and Alfred takes another step backwards. "...America?" Ivan asks after a moment, lacing his hands in his lap and leaning back in his chair. "Do you know what it is that we Russians hate most?"

America clears his throat, eyebrows knotting in confusion. "Uh, having to spend money on stuff other than cigarettes and vodka?"

Ivan ignores him. "Change, America; we hate change. And we have had... so much of it in the few years you have been alive." Russia grimaces, shaking his head as if to drive away memories threatening his mind's eye. Violet eyes shimmer in and out of focus, and America starts inching towards the door in case the older man suddenly goes psychotic on him.

But the moment passes, and Russia's gaze soon returns to his companion. "Ah. What were we discussing, America?"

"Erm. Communism?"

Humming to himself, Ivan nods. "Da, that is right. To put you at ease, no, we have not returned to the communism."

"B-but, the TV! I saw it on the TV this morning!" America's eyes went wide behind his glasses. "I was watching the news, and the weather came on, and right there, at the bottom-!"

Puzzled, Russia just blinked at him.

"The- the bottom of the screen! Where the headlines roll by and they say important stuff like what's on the show and all that!" Alfred grumbles, his arms folding defensively. "They were talking about how it was cold as hell out there in Moscow, but instead of saying that Moscow was in _Russia_ on the bottom of the screen, they said it was in the _USSR_. So either they're lying or you're lying." The smug look on America's face said he knew perfectly well which one he trusted in. "So HA. You've been caught."

Alfred expected more 'lies', or an angry outburst, or for Russia to break down and praise him for not being fooled so easily, but what he did *not* expect was for the large nation to burst out laughing. "Y-you are saying that your DOG network would not lie to you? Are you telling me for serious?" Light sparkled at the corners of Russia's eyes as he slapped his thighs in mirth, the sound of his guffaws strangely disconcerting.

"It's the _FOX_ network, and yes, I am serious!" He really wanted to stamp his feet in anger right now, but strong, manly Nations did not do such things. Instead he slapped his open palms against Russia's desk. See? Much more mature. "Stop laughing at me, dammit!"

If anything, Russia only laughed harder.

Once more the halls rang with the sound of heavy boots, but instead of purposeful strides, this time their owner just stomped and muttered to himself. Passed nations again stared after America in puzzlement.

Italy huddled against China, whimpering as he finished his story. "A-and I stayed just in case he needed my help when he was done, but there was crashing and yelling and oh-!" Feliciano swooned. "When Russia threw him onto the desk, I ran as fast as I could go! Russia is scary when he's mad. Ve, sca-ry, sca-ry!"

His thick eyebrows raising in amusement, England called after America's retreating form. "So how'd your 'incredibly urgent issue of international importance' go, then? Did you save the world and all that?"

Snarling under his breath, all that the others could make out of Alfred's response was 'fuck yourself', 'damn reds', and something about... foxes?

Eyes widening to a size that gave saucers a run for their money, Italy clapped his hands together. "There are foxes in the bathroom? America! Alfred! Wait for meeeeeee-!"

"Oi, Italy-"

"AMERICAAAAAAA!"

* * *

**Author's Notes**  
-The charcoal scent in Russia's office is from his _samovar_, which is a heated metal container that is traditionally used to make tea.  
-Inside the front cover of the book Russia was reading is a child's scrawl of 'Alexei' in Cyrillic letters. Need I say more?  
-FOX News and it's networks have been repeatedly accused of putting biased, right-wing slants on the programs and news that is presented on their shows. They've even been accused of outright lying or omitting the truth (And Russia did actually know the correct name of the network... he was just trying to push America's buttons).


End file.
